The Dangerous Game
by Thegirlwhoneverforgot
Summary: Shawn is looped into a twisted game, and to keep his friends alive, he must comply. How far is Shawn going to stretch to save the people he cares ablut the most?
1. Chapter 1: My Rules

They stepped outside and trotted down the steps of the precinct. "I've got a good feeling about this one, Gus," Shawn smirked. "And for once, Lassie didn't fight us on it."

"Uh, he didn't get the chance to because you made your charade in front of the chief," Gus countered. "And despite how stupid it looked, I think she's desperate cause she didn't hesitate to give the order."

"Desperation," Shawn sat down in the driver's seat. "That doesn't sound like the chief."

"This hasn't really been an easy case," Gus noted. Shawn nodded in agreement.

"The faster we get this son of a bitch, the sooner everyone gets to catch a break," Shawn agreed. "There could always be another case," Gus pointed out.

"Noted," Shawn grimaced, trailing the cop cars. "There could always be something else.

After a string of murders, the spiraling case came to an end. They caught the culprit and everyone went home. Shawn sighed as he dropped his keys on his nightstand. It had actually been a while since he had been in his apartment last. He had spent the last two weeks either at the Psych office, the station, or his dad's house.

He moved to the fridge to see if there was anything to eat before he hit the sack. While tossing rotting food, he heard a the sound of the mail flap on his door clatter. He peered around the corner to see a manilla envelope sitting at the base of the door.

Closing the fridge, he moved towards the door and picked up the package. No return address, and just his name. Immediately, chills ran down his back. He opened the envelope and quickly pulled out the contents. Photos fell out.

He knelt to the floor splaying all of the photos. A single note amongst the rubble. They were high quality photos. Gus cooking himself a late night snack. The jacket he wore that day was tossed on the back of one of his dining chairs. Jules was brushing her teeth while locking her doors. The same smudge of dirt was on her face from when she had taken a fall in the dash to catch the culprit. The Chief was at home, holding Lilly and talking with her husband. Lassiter was already in bed, but staring at the ceiling. Probably his nightly routine. And a photo of his dad. His dad was relaxing on his couch with the paper and the television on. Shawn snatched the note.

"Comply or they die."

Shawn had to scoff.

"Rhyming? Vague bull? What is this 'Scream'?" His phone rang, causing him to jump. He quickly snatched the phone.

"Hello Shawn," the caller greeted. "I assure you this is nothing like 'Scream'."

"What do you want?" he snapped. "Who are you?"

"Too many questions," the caller tusked. "I'd be careful or I might accidentally press the wrong button."

"What buttons?"

"Again with the questions, Shawn," the caller chided. "I assume you received gift. Are you ready to comply?"

"What do you want," Shawn repeated. "I have the right to know something." The caller sighed.

"Well, you do have that," he chuckled. "Alright, here's what's going to happen. I have a task for you. Just one, but I need you to figure it out. If you don't comply -"

"Then they die. Yes. I get it. And just how are you going to kill them?"

"You think I did this myself? Shawn, with your reputation and your record, you should know you made some enemies along the way."

"What does that mean."

"I have found many helpful … volunteers. To donate to my cause. Many people would like to see you pay for the trouble you have caused."

"So you have help and you have resources," Shawn concluded. "So why now? What's the reason for this awful timing?"

"Oh but it's perfect timing!" The caller exclaimed. "You see, I now have your undivided attention after the conclusion of your last case, but your strung out enough to do my bidding."

"Oh really?"

"You didnt think I wouldn't notice your Red Bull induced all-nighter last night? Quite the party considering you were in the middle of an investigation."

"First off, day those were Monster drinks. Second off, you're just jealous I have a stylish way of solving crime."

"Running man isn't a style trend anymore."

"You only think."

"Enough stalling! Now, you get one chance to solve the first clue to your task."

"What happens if I get it wrong?" Shawn asked.

"Oh please, like you need to be reminded of the consequences."

The phone line went dead. A moment later he received a text.

I can see you, but I can't see me. I am the windows to something deep but so small I be. The truth I scream with no mouth to speak.

-1 hour-*

Shawn hopped up to his feet gathering the photos. He paced the room thinking. He stopped is his mind reminded him if something.

"Shawn, are you destroying dolls again?" Gud demanded, slamming a doll stripped of its face except for its huge googly eyes onto Shawn's desk. He let out a small scream.

"Gus, never say strip like that again. You never know when children are present. Besides that's not even mine."

"Like in supposed to believe that."

Shawn snatched his keys and dashed out the front door. He hopped on his bike and sped over to the Psych office.

Once inside he picked up the ugly baby doll and bashed the face into the corner of his desk. The eyes immediately popped out.

"Eyes," Shawn muttered. "Windows to the soul." He cracked open one of the eyes, a piece of paper falling out.

Where what was supposed to go splat, time went back. When the face loses its hands to those of another. The choice made for one but to then save the other. It's a race to face what could have been your worst mistake.

-1 hour*

Shawn sat back on his heels, his mind reeling. His phone started to ring again. Knowing the hour, he answered the phone without a second thought. "What is this?" He demanded.

The caller laughed. "I thought you were enjoying these riddles."

"Yeah and I figure out one I get to know a clue to my 'task' but all I see is that you are just leading me from one riddle to the next," Shawn snapped.

"All in due time," the caller assured. "You shouldn't have to worry, you're already doing so well."

"Well how do I know my friends aren't already dead? You should know that if they are even touched, I will find you-"

"If you give me that cliche Liam Neeson speech, my eyes might just get stuck in the back of my head," the caller sighed.

"What he said sounds a lot better than what I had in mind," Shawn admitted. "Listen, if you really want me to complete your task, you're gonna have to up and tell me what it is you want or I am not participating."

"But you know the consequences," the caller tried.

"I know exactly what the consequences are, and if you even touch one of them, I can assure you I will stop at nothing to find you! If someone dies, you better believe I will be on your doorstep to return the favor."

He almost hung the phone up then and there. But he hesitated. And just as he was about to end the call he heard an exasperated sigh.

My, you are difficult," the caller mused. "Fine. Solve this riddle and you'll receive the instructions to your task."

"So what do I call you?" Shawn asked. "Annoying not spam caller doesn't roll off the tongue very well."

"Your Executor will do just fine." Then the call ended.

Shawn stood and paced again looking at the riddle and thinking.

"You can only save one," he remembered with a chill.

"Oh my god, Yin." Shawn exclaimed. He looked at the time. It was a little past midnight. He had 45 minutes. Quickly, he sat down at his desk and scribbled something out before tossing it haphazardly in Gus's empty wastebasket. He snatched his helmet before dashing out the door.

On the drive over, Shawn started to think. Critically. Hard. Trying to pull every scrap of learning from his dad. This man, whoever he was wanted him to suffer. Understandable. He was older, considering he had refined language and was executive to keep everyone else managed to work with him in taking Shawn down.

He had time to plan this. He must also have considerable resources. It takes more than just the promise of revenge to motivate criminals to break parole. There were many people involved.

Shawn was starting to wonder how he could contact help. He should try, but after taking account the type of surveillance this guy had on everyone, including himself, there was a high chance they would find out.

He shook his head, trying to ignore the idea of losing any one of his friends. Being dog tired and strung out really didn't help his logical processing either, as much as he was trying.

Pulling up to the clock tower, he dashed to the stairs making his way up. Bursting out onto the rooftop his was immediately caught off guard by a pair of fists that knocked him to the ground. The onslaught of beating feet came at him next, affirming his position to stay on the ground.

He groaned, rolling over. A file was dropped next to him.

"Instructions are inside. Contacting help is forbidden, just think that this is only a dose of what we can do for your friends," a gruff voice spat before the footsteps retreated and the door slammed. Shawn took a moment to catch his breath. His nose was bloody, but he was pretty sure it wasn't broken. He was most definitely going to be sore though, and many bruises to count for it.

He rolled to his knees and grasped the file. Slowly he opened it, despite his hassle to get there. He read the contents, eyes devouring every word.

"No!" He shouted, throwing the file to the ground. He even stomped on it for good measure.

His phone rang. He wordlessly answered it.

"Oh yes."

A/N: Hi! I'm back after forever. Here's my most recent writing itch. Which should be completed shortly, mainly so I can do something. I'm finally into writing(mostly), and will start updating my stories ASAP. Bear with me through this story, I just really love Psych. It'll be a couple chapters.

Ciao!


	2. Chapter 2: Make the Choice

Chapter 2:

Shawn stalked off to the parking lot spotting the package on his bike. He stared at it for a long moment. He could kick it off his bike and get the heck out of dodge but that wasn't going to save his friends.

He clenched his fists, wishing he still had the file to tear to pieces. He left it on the rooftop, and he didn't need to see it again to remember his task.

His mouth turned dry as he grabbed the bag and slung it over his shoulder. He pulled on his helmet and drove home.

He couldn't sleep, it didn't matter if he tried.

"Sleep well Psychic," the Executor taunted. "You have a big day tomorrow."

Shawn sat up in his bed, glancing at his clock. 4 in the morning.

Only 6 hours left.

He pulled out a pen and paper and starting writing furiously. A few tears escaped his eyes as he wrote his letter to Juliet. A few more for his dad, and Gus.

He sat back, rubbing at his eyes.

"I will do anything to keep you guys safe," he said aloud. "Promise."

There was no resting after that.

He paced his apartment, running his hands through his hair and trying to fight the urge to cry again.

Now he understood why so many bank robbers were shaking with their guns. Now he understood why criminals screamed and fought against the law when they're time of punishment came.

They were scared. They wanted to go back to normality. They wanted to be safe and home.

For the next couple hours, he sat, waiting. At 9 he got a text message.

Showtime.

He smashed his phone.

Jules woke up bright and early that morning with a little jump in her step. Being up at 6 gave her a jumpstart to getting ready and heading to the station early. She even picked up some coffee for her partner.

She was surprised to find him already at his desk.

"Whoa, whats up early bird," she greeted.

"I think you're just always late," he quipped. She frowned.

"Shift doesn't start till 8," she reminded before setting down the cup of coffee in front of him. "Here's to a good day."

It was at noon when she received a frantic call from Gus.

"O'Hara," she greeted.

"Juliet, something is wrong," Gus explained hurriedly. He sounded out of breath. "Is Shawn with you?"

"What? No he isn't with me," she stood from her desk. "Gus what happened?"

"I don't know," Gus panted. "But I think something is going to happen, and Shawn's in the middle of it."

"Wait how," Juliet demanded. "What, when, where, and why." Her demands caught her partner's attention. He stood by her desk watching cautiously.

"I stopped by the Psych office this morning," he started. She could hear a car door slam. " I noticed something in the trash. It just read, 'I'm sorry Gus. Please stop me. Clock tower '. I saw some kind of piece of paper attached that had a riddle on it. I went to the roof of the clock tower and there was a busted up file. It had instructions in it." He paused, figuring out how to formulate the next words.

"Gus?"

"He's going to blow up the Santabarbara City Bank."

He waltzed into the center of the bank and looked around. He surveyed his surroundings before dropping the bag at his feet. He noticed the men that were watching him. He was always being watched.

He was happy they were looked a little nervous.

Shawn noticed a security guard slowly start to approach him. He raised his hands.

"Everyone get out! There's a bomb in this bag! Everyone evacuate!"

The sudden uproar swept the guard away before there was any initial confrontation. Seeing his stalkers getting caught up amongst the fleeing people gave him the chance to pick up the bag and run. He ran for the back exit.

Just as he reached the back alleyway he was knocked to the ground his bag skittering away. He looked up.

"What are you doing?" The thug demanded. "You're not following orders."

"Oh I'm blowing up the bank," Shawn assured. "I'm blowing it up at 12:30 just like you asked. But there was nothing said about what part of the building. And there was nothing said about saving the people inside."

"You cheat!" The thug spat. "You're friends will die."

"No," Shawn stated simply. "It'll only be me. And maybe you, if you can't get out of here fast enough."

The thug laughed. "And why is that? Why would you kill yourself? What does that achieve."

"Because without me, you have nothing. There will be no point in hurting my friends because what you need will be gone. So nice knowing ya." He turned around for his bag and bolted.

Immediately he was dragged down. A swift kick to his side stunned him.

"You will pay for your disobedience." The door opened and another one of the Executors recruits stepped out. They started dragging the pseudo-psychic away from his curse and salvation.

Lassiter cursed as he sped down the road, barking orders into the radio. "I want everyone out of there now do you hear me! Set up a safety perimeter around the block, hell, make it two or three just to be safe." He slammed the radio into the console. "What is Spencer doing?!"

"Something must have happened," Juliet reasoned. "There's no way he'd go from a case to bombing a bank in less than a day."

"I get that, but it doesn't change the fact that he's still doing it."

Jules closed her eyes and prayed.

Despite the 2 on 1, Shawn considered that he was doing rather okay since he was on his feet half the time instead of on the ground all the time being beaten into a pulp.

With every kick and punch, however, was a second lost, and he needed to get to that bomb.

In an almost ninja-like motion, he swept the feet out from underneath one of the guys who crashed into the ground. Shawn scrambled for the bag, flipping open the top and slamming his palm into the button. The 10 second countdown started and the two thugs grabbed Shawn trying to drag him away, running as fast as they could. Shawn became dead weight, trying to slow them down. His eyes flicked to the timer to see the one turn to 0. A split second after the deafening roar, the blast hit him and then there was nothing.

A/N:

I'm so happy to be writing again. Will update soon.


	3. Chapter 3: Repercussions

Chapter 3:

Juliet and Lassiter pulled in front of the bank before assessing the damage. Smoke was rising over the building but it seemed to be coming from behind. Lassiter stopped one of the firemen running by. "What are we looking at?" he demanded.

"The bomb went off in the back alley," the fireman explained. "There's a partial building collapse from the bank and from the adjacent building which is an empty office building. The back alley is a mess, we're currently stabilizing the area before we head in to find anyone.

"Do you know how many people are back there?"

"We are unsure of that at the moment, sir," the fireman shook his head. "We will notify you when it's safe to go in. We have an EMT team standing to the side ready to aid anyone who was caught in the blast." Lassiter nodded and let them carry on.

 _Unprofessional linebreak because mobile app for fanfiction is seems to have last that function._

Daniel Rogers, a rookie fireman, picked through the rubble of the blast. His nervousness was hard to keep at bay today. It was his first bomb call. He didn't like it one bit. While his team finished up securing the sides of the alley, they gave him the go ahead to start searching the rubble. He rolled over a slab of smoldering drywall before continuing down the alley. Careful to look under the debris before stepping, he made his way down. He heard a coughing sound. Quickly bending down, he lifted up a particularly heavy slab of concrete before tossing it to the side.

He immediately recognized the bomber. The police had shown them a picture of who to look for. He was to be brought in safely.

Daniel's hands clenched. He didn't want to save a person who would commit such violent crimes. He knelt down beside him anyway and started running his assessment. The bomber gasped, his breathing hitched. Most likely some pretty extensive internal damage. There were some burns along his forearms indicating his shielded himself from the blast.

"Hey," he spoke, catching Daniel off guard. He wasn't sure how to respond.

"Sir, I need you to tell me what happened," he instructed tersely.

"Trying to shake a serial killer," the bomber coughed. "Or a gang leader… His henchmen were trying to stop me."

"From detonating the bomb? Do you know where they were when the bomb went off?" he asked, looking around.

"Running," the man winced. "I should be dead."

"Yeah you should," Daniel said before realizing what he said. The bomber seemed to notice this and laughed a little.

"No, I need to be dead," he emphasized. "My friends will die if I'm not." Suddenly the fireman's interest peaked.

"Excuse me?"

"Doing just enough to keep my friends alive," he explained. "If I'm dead, he won't go after them anymore."

"The gang leader?" The bomber grunted in response. "Sir, what's your name?"

"Shawn Spencer."

That name sounded familiar in his head. "Alright, Mr. Spencer, we're going to get you out of here, okay?"

"I need to be dead," he repeated before his eyes slowly closed. Daniel stood, turning to call his team over when movement caught his eye. He noticed a man, clearly roughed up from the blast. His clothes were dirty and there was blood trailing down the side of his face. He hid away from the scene on the other side of the alleyway, pulling a phone to his ear. Daniel thought for a moment.

"Hey!" he shouted, catching the other's attentions. "I've got a body over here!"

 _Another crappy line break but I hope you're enjoying the story._

Henry ran up to the bank, slipping past the police officers. His search became frantic when he heard over when of the police radios: Body found. White male, late 20's early 30's. He rounded the side of one of the ambulances to see a body being loaded up. He stopped one of the paramedics.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"Sir, I don't think…" the paramedic started.

"I work with the police!" Henry interrupted, showing his badge. The paramedic stopped.

"We've recovered only one person from the blast," he explained. "He was demanding death before he lost consciousness. He was saying he had to save his friends. We think he's the bomber." Henry looked into the ambulance to see it was, indeed, his son laying on the bed.

"I need to come with you," he insisted. "I need to hear everything he said."

 _Awkward Line break_

Juliet was inside the bank watching the tapes. Shawn had waltzed in, dropped the bag and announced there was a bomb. When everyone ran he bolted for the back door. Two men followed him to the back. They managed to recover the footage in the back alleyway up until the blast. There was major fight until Shawn managed to push the button.

"This doesn't make any sense," she sighed. Carlton was silent.

"I - I don't get it either," he admitted. She looked at him.

"What are your thoughts?" she asked.

"See I would say he was commiting a bank robbery, but he didn't even bring a bag for the cash. The bag he had really did have a bomb in it. Then, when everyone was gone, he ran straight for the backdoor and didn't give the cash a glance. I would say it was a terrorist bombing except for the fact that he announced the bomb and waited till everyone was gone and even ran to the back exit to set it off. I just don't get it."

"It seems like he didn't want to do it," Jules thought aloud.

"And at the same time, he did," Carlton added.

Jules phone rang. "O'hara," she greeted. She was silent for a moment. "Okay, thank you. We'll be right over." She hung up. "They just took Shawn to the hospital. He said come quickly."

They ran out the door.

 _Super tense line break_.

When they got there, Gus, Henry, and the Chief were already there.

"How is he?" Jules asked.

"What happened?" Carlton demanded. The chief raised her hand to prevent any more questions.

"I don't know how he is," Henry answered. "Hell I don't know anything." He shook his head. "I just want to know what turned my son into a bomber. You saw the tapes right? Shawn didn't do this."

Jules and Lassiter looked at each other.

"He did," Carlton answered. Gus looked wide-eyed. Henry shook his head again.

"The paramedics were saying he was begging for death," his voice cracked a little. "There's just no way."

"Family of Shawn Spencer?" a doctor called. Everyone's heads turned. The doctor approached them.

"I'm his father," Henry turned to him. "These are his closest friends." The doctor nodded.

"Um, you might want to sit down," he encouraged, looking at everyone. Juliet gasped.

"How bad is it?"

"Mr. Spencer," the doctor sighed. "Your son didn't make it. I'm so sorry for your loss."

 _A/N: When my writing came back, it came back with a vengance. Sorry about your broken feelings. Lol._


	4. Chapter 4: Grief

Chapter 4: Grief

Due to the investigation there was only a small immediate funeral. Only immediate family and select close friends were invited. Henry insisted on Lassiter, Juliet, and the Chief to join them. Gus was already considered family.

It was quiet. Almost too quiet.

2 weeks of the sudden quiet was starting to drive people crazy. More than what Shawn could offer.

2 weeks and you'd think that people were no longer in shock.

2 weeks and you'd think the pain would be less. It wasn't.

Henry went home that day with a heavy heart. Gus offered to go with him but Henry shook his head and told him to be with his family. Besides, Henry would be taking Madeline to the airport later that evening.

She refused to stay.

After returning from his errands, Henry sat down on the couch shuffling through his mail. Seeing a small envelope, he pulled it from the stack and opened it. For the first time in a while, he smirked. He picked up his keys and headed for his truck.

 _Psssssssssssych_

After a ten minute drive along the coast, Henry pulled into a small coastwise motel located on the outskirts of Santa Barbara. He took a deep breath of the ocean breeze and walked up to door 19. He gave a swift knock and waited.

After a minute, the door slowly opened and he stepped inside. He closed and locked the door before turning around. "I hope you have a plan because there was a lot of unnecessary tears at that funeral today. You should have seen it, it was quite beautiful in some dark and twisted way."

Shawn limped out of the bathroom. "I know, I saw. Don't worry though, I have a plan."

 _PSYCHBUTIGUESSYOUTOTALLYSAWTHATCOMING_

Henry watched his son sit down on the bed in front of him. Papers and notes and files were strewn everywhere.

"How you faring?" Henry asked, noting the shortness of breath.

"Manageable," was all Shawn could, ironically, manage.

Henry pulled up a chair to look at the mess before him. The work these past two weeks to get here.

"I really don't think he should be up and about in his condition," the doctor said tersely, seeing Shawn slowly pull on a shirt.

"We both know I can't be hear any longer without being discovered," Shawn coughed, wincing. The doctor sighed, passing a paper bag to Henry.

"There's pain medicine and anti inflammatories in there so you can breathe easy. Just don't over exert yourself and try to be resting for the next four weeks." Shawn didn't reply as he slowly vent over to tie his shoelaces.

The doctor pulled Henry aside. "Listen, it hasn't even been 24 hours of post-op recovery of a surgery that barely saved his life. He shouldn't even be awake right now." Henry sighed, knowing very well what the doctor meant.

"I understand doc, we will try our best to keep him safe and well rested. But you understand how important it is he goes incognito," Henry explained.

"I understand, but I still don't like it," the doctor admitted. "Listen if there are any problems, here is my personal cell for you to call for assistance."

"Thank you," Henry accepted the card. "You're a life saver."

Shawn slowly stood, wavering as he kept his balance. Henry passed him a crutch to walk. "We'll take a staff side exit which will put us in a separate parking structure hopefully away from prying eyes."

The doctor nodded, seeing them off before continuing on as if it never happened.

Psych

Shawn laid down, hidden in the backseat of the truck while Henry drove off. He silently cursed every bump and shudder the truck had to offer. One time, he wasn't so quiet.

"Whoa, I don't remember teaching you that kind of language," Henry called out, but his usually gruffness was lacking. "This was your best shot of getting out of that hospital."

"I know," Shawn hissed as they rounded a corner. "But for once I actually agreed with the doctor and kinda wished I stayed."

Henry said nothing as they pulled into a small motel which, was actually only a few blocks away from the police station.

Henry helped Shawn into his room, passed him the files and the medication.

"Take care of yourself, kid," he reminded him.

"You know I will," Shawn smirked. "Oh, um, best if you don't come back. I'll be working and staying incognito. I don't want you getting caught. I'll send you my next address in some way or another." Henry nodded.

"Well I got to go," he shrugged. "I have a funeral to plan."

No one laughed.

Psych

Henry sat down on his couch flipping through the papers of his son's diagnostics.

Despite the circumstance, Henry wanted to make sure his son didn't do something that would actually kill him.

"Treated for internal bleeding, broken/bruised ribs, sprained knee, significant gash along right upper arm. Dislocated shoulder, mild concussion, minor burns along both forearms, hands, and lower neck. Was given round of antibiotics to treat mild infection in upper chest, most likely due to blunt trauma.

"Christ, kid, you never do anything half way," he sighed, rubbing his face. He just hoped he could keep his son alive while he tried saving everyone else.

Psych

Shawn wasn't surprised to find that all of the current case files were still sitting in the front seat of Lassie's vehicle. Quickly, he slipped the lock and into the car scanning the information as fast he could. Using his phone, he snapped some extra photos just in case.

He heard a harsh voice shouting in the station and quickly closed the door, slipping away, never seen.

Psych

Henry watched Shawn now, seeing the heavy bags under his eyes.

"So when was the last time you slept?" He asked. Shawn looked up, a pencil hanging from his mouth.

"Um," he mumbled, thinking. "Not last night, but the night… Not last night or the night before but the night before that."

Henry just gave him an deadening stare. "Really kid? And you expect to save your friends living off of pain medication and 3 days of no sleep?" Shawn shrugged.

"I know it's stupid, but as soon as I can developer a next plan of action step, I'll catch some shut eye."

Henry looked to the door.

"Will you have to leave after this?" He asked. He shook his head.

"No," Shawn responded, mostly focused on organizing the photos and files, scribbling something down. "Whoever was after me most definitely believes I'm dead."

"Wait really?"

"Yeah," Shawn passed him several photos. Men sitting outside the cemetery grounds, watching the funeral from a distance. One man pulling away from Juliet's house and another walking into a guarded, unmarked building.

"Where did you get these?"

"Well, these guys I noticed trailing the funeral and this guy I saw follow Juliet home. Plus, I had seen him outside Juliet's house when I first got out of the hospital. I noticed posted men outside Gus and Lassiters apartment too, I made the same conclusion for the chief's. But after the funeral, I followed these guys to Juliet's house and they didn't sit there for too long. One guy got a call and they pulled out. I followed them to this unmarked building by the waterfront, and guess who showed up?"

"The Executioner guy?"

"I believe so. Despite the voice changer, and never seeing him before, I could tell it was him." Shawn stifled a yawn.

"How could you tell?"

"His voice pattern, duh," Shawn rolled his eyes, wincing at the headache. "Same vocabulary and tone." Henry smirked, looking down at Shawn's work.

"Okay so how do you know they think they're dead?"

"Cause he said so," Shawn pulled up his phone and hit play on a recording. He plopped it on the bed as he took a bite of his sandwich.

"You called?'

'Yes I called, I want to know what you idiots have come up with.'

'We talked to the doctor at the hospital and he showed us the death certificate. He also gave us the name of the funeral home the body had been sent to.'

'Well?'

'When we got there, the remains were just being placed inside the urn and the clerk was nice enough to tell us she wasn't happy with doing business for a potential bombing terrorist, but at least she got paid.

'There was no sign of him at his apartment or office. He left a little goodbye note for his sweetheart, but the place has been untouched. No sign of him at any of the police's houses, or family or friends.'

'Including his slippery father?'

There was an audible sigh. 'Yes, even the father. He's been grieving with his wife all week.'

'So he really did blow himself up' the Executioner laughed. 'I didn't think he'd be so stupid.'

There was the sound of a gun clicking. 'I wanted revenge on that man as much as you did but now he's gone so how are you going to compensate for that?'

'Easy gentleman,' the Executioner said calmly. 'Let's say we meet back here in 2 days so we can discuss our next step? I need to weigh our options and see which will be most fruitful… for all of us.'

Shawn stuffed his phone back in his pocket. "So that goes down tonight and I'm going there to see what they have planned. I'm hoping to gather some kind of confession or enough evidence that proves my innocence to the police and their guilt so that they can be arrested."

"Alright Shawn, you know this has to be done precisely right?" Henry asked, standing up.

"I know."

"You can't do this alone," Henry reminded.

"Agree to disagree," Shawn started putting away all the files.

"Oh really? And how exactly are you going to catch everyone with your sprained kne and your countless broken bones?"

"They're ribs and they're emotionally sensitive so don't talk about them like that," Shawn retorted. Henry glared at him. Shawn risked.

"Listen," he explained. "We go and we collect information. We stay hidden and we don't interfere. If we see them pull something fishy we call the police. If we think we've got what we need we call the police, okay?"

"Fine," Henry shrugged. "Just glad you have your head on straight for once. Minus the missing three days of sleep thing."

"Just please let that go," Shawn muttered as they walked out the door.

A/N: Okay, so very cliche i know. I didn't say it was going to be good, just fun. Sorry not very action packed. Oh but soon enough lol.


	5. Chapter 5: Confessions and Condolences

Chapter 5:

Henry parked a block away from the address Shawn had given him. He watched his son step out of the truck picking up the camera and his phone.

"Alright, so where do I need to go?" He asked.

Shawn shook his head, "Away. By a couple blocks at least. I need to stay as hidden as possible and there's usually no one down here at this time of night."

"And you really think I'm going to leave you?" Henry smirked.

Shawn scoffed, "I know I can't get you to leave but you might as well stand by."

"Stand by? And do nothing?"

Shawn risked. "Fine, if there's a problem I'll let you call the police."

"You update me every 20 minutes, you hear?"

Shawn pressed his lips and stalked away, his attitude showing he got the message.

Psych

It only took ten minutes before people started showing up. Until Shawn was sure everyone had arrived, he then moved from his spot in the bushes to a nearby window peeking in on the meeting.

He cracked open the window to hear before everyone had settled down inside. Pulling out his camera and mindful of the flash, he quickly started the recording on his phone.

The man who called himself the Executioner came out of the back to greet them.

"Good evening, gentlemen." He sat down. "Good of you to join me to discuss our little… problem."

"Payment?"

"Yes, but also that if Shawn Spencer. That little terrorist decided to blow himself up," the man grit his teeth. "Payment is… short considering our job was cut short."

"But I want payment!" Someone demanded. "I want something that I can use to start sustaining myself! Getting a job with a criminal record is impossible!"

"In due time gentlemen," the Executioner calmly explained. "Listen, as of now, we have no more reason to be here. In fact, it is quite dangerous. The investigation going on for the death of the SPBD psychic has put the department into overdrive… which leads to results."

"You're saying we leave? With no result?" One growled.

"I'm saying we need to move shop, find other modes of operation. Santabarbara is not a safe place for us right now. I hear there is an… odd fellow who works for the San Francisco department. His results are quite impressive as well. I suggest we move base and collect more men."

There were murmurs among the group.

"When do we leave?"

"Tonight."

Shawn could barely hold in his gasp. He picked up his phone and dialed. "Dad," he whispered. "Call the station, they're leaving tonight. If they do the SBPD won't get anything and they'll get away."

He hung up before looking inside to see that everyone was already prepping to leave.

He bit his lip thinking for a moment. Setting the camera down by the door, he whipped open the door. Waltzing inside he whistled, clapping his hands. Everyone turned and several jaws dropped. The Executioner still sitting in chair paled, But was quick to wipe the shocked expression off his face.

He laughed.

"Why didn't I see this coming?" He boomed. Shawn sighed.

"So, going on a little road trip are we?" The others had overcome their stupor and drew their weapon. Shawn noted the two guys in the alley who still had bruises on their face. "Sorry not sorry," he sympathized before turning back to the others.

"Ah, do you heard our conversation," the Executioner said.

"Yeah, a little bit," Shawn admitted. "But I got to say it's quite stupid. I mean, you really think the SBPD is not hot on your trail?" He pauses before looking the man dead in the eye. "Frank Crockson?"

The older man paled.

Gotcha.

Henry ambled into the station, obviously uncomfortable. The familiar halls just lost some of its spark. The usual shouts of Shawn's antics were lost.

The chief came out of her office to greet him, her face apologetic. "Thank you for coming down, Henry. I understand you wanted to claim some of Shawn's things." He nodded, ignoring the stares of the other officers. Karen invited him into her office where Lassiter and Juliet sat reviewing some of their files. Juliet looked down to hide her red eyes.

Noticing his gaze the chief cleared her throat. "Um, I'm having my detectives look through Shawn's case history, to see if there is anyone who's out or anyone who might want to hurt him." Henry nodded.

"Ah, May I?" He asked, gesturing to the list. The chief hesitated before nodding.

"I don't think Spencer would have ever done this," Lassiter then spoke, handing him the file. "Despite his methods, he was a damn good detective." He looked away to hide his discomfort. Juliet smiled a little.

There was a commotion outside and the detectives excused themselves. Karen gave him a quick goodbye before indicating to Shawn's items on her desk.

Henry flipped rapidly through the files, snapping pictures of the lists. He went to the files on the table and took photos of those contents. He went to the desk and reached for Shawn's items and froze.

It was his phone and the gold pocket watch.

Despite knowing the truth, Henry felt his heart seize. God, he didn't know how he would cope if he was really gone.

Quickly collecting the items, he left the station and headed home.

Psych

"So of course, you don't have to be on a parole list to catch my attention," Shawn mused. "But of course, a messy operation with your name attached did raise an eye. But thank god your son was in prison so he could get information on other inmates, like who put them in and more importantly; when they got out. You knew as soon as you could get enough men or until your son could get out, you'd go after the man who ruined your life."

Frank chuckled. "What are you getting at, psychic? So, maybe what you say is true but what does it matter? The cops think you're dead. They're not here to rescue you. What you say won't go anywhere."

Shawn faltered.

"I just want to do something to get back at the man that ruined my life," Shawn retorted, his tone ice. Frank snorted

"Ah I guess we all can't get what we want," he laughed. "Besides, what's so special about you? Why do you have to exact revenge? It took me at least two years of waiting and you two weeks?"

"There's a huge difference! Like morals and that important stuff. Oh, your a criminal. Your son is a criminal. I was just doing my job. The right thing to do. It's not my fault your son couldn't figure out which way was up."

Frank, as age was deceiving, launched out of his chair so fast and struck Shawn with a fist so hard that he was pretty sure was once used to sock others in the face too. He fell to the floor hard, wincing as his knee and other injuries twinged in pain.

"My son was on the up and up!" He roared. "Until you came along and messed it up! It was only fair to toy with you and your life. Threatening your friends and family who are cops and have also destroyed our life as well! The real satisfaction was in ruining you! Honestly, I should have chosen the Santa Barbara police department for you to blow up. It would have been a much easier mess to clean up and no detectives to breathe down our back!"

"So you thought riddles was the best way to toy with me? And pictures of my friends to keep me to do your bidding?"

"Really, you have to admit that they were quite fun."

"You're insane!" Shawn exclaimed, pulling himself to his feet. "Does anyone else not notice that? Like this guy is off his rocker! And he doesn't know how he's going to pay you now that I'm supposed to be dead. Cause, let me guess. I was supposed to blow up that bank so you could collect?"

There was a sudden silence.

"You were gonna what?" Someone asked.

"You were going to kill the guy that we want to exact revenge on and then take the money?" Another demanded.

"Yeah," Shawn confirmed. "And sure he may pay you, but he was going to sit on millions of dollars of it and toss you all under the bus. Cause even if I did blow up the bank, I couldn't have taken it. And so he could throw the blame on you to get the eco out of dodge."

"Finish him," Frank ordered. The others looks at each other.

"When we go to San Francisco, what are you going to do? You going to blow up the bank and try and run off with the dough then?" The one guy with the bruises asked. "You're just going to wait to betray us? I'm sorry, but as much as I hate Shawn Spencer, I can't forgive someone who double crosses me." There was a murmured agreement.

Frank yelled as he swung at Shawn again. He ducked out of the way but was quickly overcome by a knee to the gut. He toppled over.

"If no one else is going to finish him," Frank said between grunts as he kicked Shawn, "Then I will!"

There was a sudden bang on the door, Shawn scrambled to his feet and jumped out the side window as the cops burst in. He collected his camera and picked up his phone, slinking away from the blaring lights. He felt a strong hand on his shoulder and looked up.

Henry gave him a hand as they made they're way to the truck and drove off, unseen from the prying eye.

 _Psych_

Lassiter and Juliet raced to their cars as a hot tip called in a suspicious meeting going down with several names that could mean a drug deal or something illegal, but something big.

They pulled in front of the warehouse and stepped outside, black and whites already storming the building.

Out of the corner of her eye, Juliet say a small pickup pulling away from the scene that was oddly familiar, but she thought none of it as she went to go make her arrests.

 _Psych_

Gus was lying in bed staring at the ceiling for the dozenth time in a row. Sleep evaded him as he grieved the loss of his best friend.

The call from Henry was a happy… Er… a distraction.

"Gus, I hope I'm not waking you up right now but I could really use your help," Henry asked. Rubbing his face, Gus sighed.

"It's okay Mr. Spencer," he said. "I'll be over in 10."

He hung up the phone and got up to get dress.

 _Psych_

Lassiter picked up Frank Crockson off the floor. "I don't know who the hell you think you are, but I hope you enjoy crowded jail cells."

"The torment is evident on your face," he spat back at him. "I can't believe it but you actually miss that little psychic. Cockroaches are hard to kill you know."

Lassiter growled. "I hope that was a confession to murder, but in the mean time, have a nice nap." He shoved him to McNab who promptly took him to the car.

After slamming the last car door, Juliet and Lassiter watched them drive off. "You know we're not going to get them on anything other than breaking parole." Juliet nodded.

"Let's just deal with it tomorrow."

Juliet's phone rang. "Mr. Spencer?"

"Detective O'Hara," he greeted. "I'm in need of some… assistance and really could use your help."

"Um, sure," she agreed. "You wouldn't mind if Carlton comes with, would you?"

"That'll be just fine," he said before hanging up.

 _Psych_

When Juliet pulled up, she took note of Gus pulling up as well.

"What are you doing here?" Carlton asked.

"Mr. Spencer asked for my help. I don't want to leave him hanging," Gus shrugged. His usual enthusiasm was absent. They stepped up to the porch and Juliet knocked on the door. Henry quickly came and answered.

"Thanks for coming, please come in," he greeted, allowing them inside.

"What's going on?" Gud asked, confused with Heny's low voice. He handed them a packet.

"There's everything you need to nail all those guys at the warehouse," he explained with a firm nod.

"At the… Henry what were you thinking?!" Lassiter exclaimed. Henry shushed him.

"Shut up! And it wasn't even my idea!" He whispered. "Besides, he walked towards the couch. "It was his." The group walked towards him and peered over the couch. Juliet gasped. Lassiter's has dropped and Gus turned an odd shade of green.

"Shawn?!" Juliet gasped, dropping her voice and rounding the side of the couch o kneel next to him.

He was sleeping soundly, carefully covered with several blanket and supported by a couple pillows.

"He's not going to wake for a while, and honestly I'd like to keep it that way," Henry said slowly.

"H-how?" Lassiter stammered.

"We managed to convince the paramedic team to keep quiet. The doctor was more than willing when I showed him my badge."

"Wait, so he was actually hurt?" Gus asked, seeming to recover a little.

"Yeah he was, he was barely hanging on," Henry admitted, he guided them to the kitchen and they all took a seat. "We knew whoever was going after Shawn was going to try and find him in the hospital if he survived. After his surgery, we got him out and to a nearby motel for him to settle."

"Surgery?" Gus asked.

"He had a collapsed lung," Henry sighed. He pulled out the medical sheet and let Gus read it.

"My god," he uttered.

Juliet shook her head.

"So, there were people after him?" She asked.

"Yes," Henry tapped the packet in Lassiter's hand. "All the information you need is in there. There's evidence, a timeline, and Shawn's notes in there." Lassiter looked through the contents of the packet. He then looked to the couch.

"Spencer did all of this? My god, why didn't he become a cop?"

"Cause I wanted him to," Henry shrugged.

Gus spoke up.

"Um, he left within his 24 hour post-op recovery? It's been two weeks, why is he so wiped?"

"He hasn't slept in 3 days."

"Jesus Christ, Spencer," Lassiter muttered.

"Shouldn't he go back to the hospital?" Juliet asked.

"We need to make sure that those men are prosecuted and don't walk or else someone will get to him," Henry said. Juliet got up again, walking over to the couch to sit next to him. She had to hide her tears.

She studied him through her teary eyes. His form moving only with every shallow breath, otherwise still.a stark bruise stood out on his face. But he was alive.

Hesitantly, she reached out and stroked his hair. She smiled as his head shifted and leaned towards her touch.

She was mad.

Her cheeks got hot.

The grief she had gone through these past two weeks, the tears streamed down her face in silent agony. She felt a presence next to her. Gus sat next to her.

"I'm mad too," he whispered. "But I'm going to give him that trouble later. I just hope he can last till then."

"What do you mean?" She asked. Gus placed a timid hand on his friends forehead.

"He's running a bit of a fever, and I can hear a rattle in his chest," he notes. "His immune system must be run down and it doesn't help that he was stupid enough to go so long without sleep."

Lassiter's phone rang. He quickly answered it.

Henry watched as Lassiter stepped away to answer his phone and looked towards the living room to see Gus and Juliet sitting by the couch talking lowly.

Henry heaved a sigh feeling like several tons were lifted off his shoulders. It was almost over.

Lassiter came back.

"One of the officers noticed blood on Frank's hands and shoes. They sent it to the lab and there wasn't a match… for any living person. Juliet looked up.

"What?"

"Forensics wants to know why they found a dead man's blood on Frank Crockson's hands and shoes. Gus stood, peeling back the blanket that covered Shawn. He noticed the ripped fabric of his shirt. Carefully opening his shirt he inhaled sharply.

Juliet quickly pulled on a glove, and prodded gently at the stark bruises and cuts that littered Shawn's torso. Shawn drew a hitched breath.

"Nothing seems broken, or… nothing new seems broken," she sighed. "He's got new bruises and some good cuts though. Gus can you grab me a first aid kit?"

Gus nodded and ran off. Lassiter turned to Henry. "How much longer does he need to stay hidden? Juliet and I can both lose our badges if we lie. It will be a hindrance to the investigation."

"I'll call Chief Vick," Henry said, picking up his phone. "Get that evidence turned in as soon as possible. I don't think we can stay hidden for much longer anyway." Lassiter nodded.

"O'Hara," he turned to his partner. "You stay with Spencer and Guster. Once we get this evidence processed and make our official charges of arrest we'll call you and see if we can get him to a hospital. He may be fine, but it's not worth taking that chance." Juliet nodded. She accepted the first aid kit from Gus and sat down on the coffee table.

Henry bid them goodbye before he and Lassiter took off.

"Help me, Gus," Juliet asked, before opening the first aid kit.

 _Psych_

Lassiter and Henry entered the station and were immediately greeted by the chief.

"Henry, Detective. My office now," she snipped before turning sharply on her heel. They quickly followed and closed the door and blinds after them.

"WHY IS FORENSICS TELLING ME THEY HAVE BLOOD FROM A MAN WHO DIED TWO WEEKS AGO." She shrieked. Henry and Lassiter both took a step back from shock of her outburst.

"Um, chief," Lassiter started.

"Choose your next words, carefully, Detective," she snapped, standing behind her desk.

"Karen," Henry interjected. "Don't rat on your Detective. I can explain." He looked at Lassiter.

"Well there's nothing to wait for," he waved the packet sarcastically. "Unless you're starting to have psychic premonitions like Spencer." Henry turned back to the chief.

"Shawn's alive," he explained. The chief sat back in her chair.

"Henry…" she started.

"He's right, Chief," Lassiter conformed. "O'Hara is with him now." The Chief was at a loss for words.

"Why?" She asked. Lassiter raises the packet.

"Cause he's been hard at work, and we need to help finish the job."

 _Psych_

Jules and Gus sat in the living room quietly conversing when Shawn shifted. The first sign of real movement in a long time. Juliet knelt down next to him, noticing the slight glisten if sweat on his forehead. "He's still burnin up," she sighed. Shawn turned his head a little, and slowly opened his eyes.

His glassy hazel eyes looked up at her and he blinked, slightly confused. "Hey," she smiled. His eyes twinkled as a small smile graced his face too.

"Jules," he rasped.

Gus handed her a wet rag which she pressed to his forehead. He winced a little.

"You died," Juliet said, feeling the tears prick at her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "Had to keep you safe." He coughed, the rattle becoming more noticeable in his chest. He inhaled sharply, trying to breathe. "Wow that hurts."

"You got the hell beat out of you," Gus reminded him. Shawn turned his head towards his friend.

"Man I'm so happy to see you," Shawn grinned. He groaned and shifted again, riding through another ache.

"I'm not sure if I want to hug you or kill you," Gus snorted.

"Great," Shawn grit. "While you figure that out, can you get the meds that are in the backpack by the front door?"

Gus left while Juliet turned back to him.

"You dad and Lassiter went to the station," she explained. "Forensics found your blood at the warehouse, and they took the evidence you gathered. They're going to make their official arrests."

"Wait, my phone," Shawn grunted. He pulled it out of his pocket. "There's all the confessions of Frank Crockson. What he did. Should prove my innocence."

"It's going to take a lot to prove your innocence after bombing a bank," Juliet noted.

"Yeah well it's a lot," Shawn shrugged then gasped.

"Gus?" Juliet called. He came around the corner with a bottle and a glass of water.

"Your almost out," he explained before handing them to Shawn. "Honestly, you need to go back in the hospital."

"I agree," he muttered before popping the medicine. "But I can't do anything until I know Frank's for sure arrested. Besides, going back to the hospital after I'm supposed to be dead is messy." He coughed again, curling in on himself as his body suffered further abuse. "Hey at least I'm not shot."

"Just blown up," Gus reprimanded. His begrudging attitude was letting up and was starting to be replaced with honest concern.

Shawn's eyes started to drift close as he hummed in agreement. Juliet continued to stroke his hair. "Just sleep for now," she told him gently. "Well wake you when we know anything else."

He was already already asleep.

 _Psych_

The chief raised hell.

That was in summary of what had happened. After crying in relief, she stood up, wiped her tears, threatened the two men if they spoke of what they saw, no one would find their bodies. After that understanding, she took the evidence to the conference room with McNab, Lassiter, Henry, and forensics on her tail. They were in the middle of reviewing the evidence when Gus came into the station.

"Shawn gave this to me," he explained, setting the phone on the table. He pressed play on the device and let everyone listen.

"My son was on the up and up!" He roared. "Until you came along and messed it up! It was only fair to toy with you and your life. Threatening your friends and family who are cops and have also destroyed our life as well! The real satisfaction was in ruining you! Honestly, I should have chosen the Santa Barbara police department for you to blow up. It would have been a much easier mess to clean up and no detectives to breathe down our back!"

The sound of several gasps echoed through the room.

Henry grit his teeth as he heard the beating and his son's constant pursuit of taunting.

"We have him," the Chief announced. "Lassiter, go ahead and announce the official charges. Henry, get your son to the hospital. I will have officer McNab escort you. Let's wrap this up."

Everyone broke up to do her bidding.

 _Psych_

 _Several days later_

Shawn sat up from the couch, looking around. His chest ached a little, but it was just a twinge at this point. He pulled up his shirt to look at the bandages that wrapped his torso. He checked his knee which was taped instead of a brace, considering how well it was healing. The cough and rattle in his chest was almost gone. The second round of antibiotics and days of heavy sleep fixed that.

"Stop messing with those," he heard a gruff voice say. Shawn looked up to see his dad sitting at the kitchen table, coffee cup and paper in hand. He rotated his feet off the couch and slowly stood up.

From his view at the table, Henry hid his smirk seeing his son messing with his bandages like a curious 12 year old. His "fabulous" hair stuck up in all different directions. He watched his son rub the sleep from his eyes and shuffle over to the kitchen table. Henry pushed the cup of tea in his direction. Shawn furrowed his brow.

"No caffeine with your meds," Henry reminded. "Besides, the tea will help boost your immune system."

Shawn shrugged and sipped the hot drink before taking a seat next to him.

"Gus will be over later today to take you to the Psych office," Henry told him, while turning the page. Shawn merely hummed in response.

"Lassie and Jules will be there to take my statement," he said, setting the mug down. He crossed his arms and looked out the window. "Gus and I are gonna readjust the office a bit. I need to get out of the house and do something."

"Don't do too much."

"That's why we're just doing some light work at the office."

"What's the progress on the case?"

"Wrapped up," Shawn shrugged. "Chief, Lassie, and Jules are just wrapping up some paperwork and loose ends but Frank's already being processed at the prison."

Shawn continued to stare out into the distance. "I hated being dead."

"I did too"

"You don't mean that."

"I do," Henry looked up from his paper. "And your friends hated it too. You may not realize it but you actually matter to people. Once you make friends, there's a certain level of responsibility in keeping them. You can't just dump them and run off when things go wrong."

"This was different. I didn't want to leave," Shawn muttered, cautious of the direction of the conversation.

"And I know it's different," Henry said. "I'm proud."

Shawn gave him a dumbfounded look, which looked funny with his whacked hair and sleepy eyes.

"Whoa what happened to my dad?"

"Watching you fight that infection and recovering from what Frank's feet did to your ribs gave me some time to think okay? It's about prioritizing time and what you value most," Henry huffed. Shawn shrugged.

"Uh thanks?"

There was an awkward silence.

"I'm going to get dressed," he finally said, placing his mug in the sink. Henry's phone rang.

"Hello?" He answered.

"MY SON WAS ALIVE THE WHOLE TIME AND YOU KNEW?!" Madelyn shrieked through the phone. Henry jumped at the noise and looked at Shawn who quickly moved to the stairs.

"You're on your own with that one," he got out before disappearing up the stairs.

"Shawn it was your idea!" Henry shouted. "Madelyn would you shut up for two seconds! No I can explain! Shawn! Shawn!"

End:

A/N: Thanks for reading! I've been stuck in the car all day so I get to write. Let me know what else you'd like to see and what you thought of the story!

(It's definitely not quality but I was happy to get the writing itch out).

Bottom of the evening to ya lassies.


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